n the fall, i played soccer.
the grass was cold and wet and smelled
like moon
over jade.
we sat in silence
rolling up our socks
over our little
beggar knees
bruised around
the cresent
and ribs showing
the red and white cleats that slipped on our skunky tongue feet
seal skin
the feel of the
rubber knobs
press into soil
our duffle bags
smelled like road kill
flat over
luminous white
line of wet road
the sweat.
the sweat
made our noses
pink gums
and my curly sea hair
blowing upward smoke
feel tight tshirt
twisiting against
my side
the short orange cones
glowing houses
under the crucifix
field lights
like planet arm
silent
the legs moving oil rigs
silent
the trees bending over
over the fence
silent
the huff
from our lung,
silver fog
silent
our ponytails.
the sweat
in the cold
8 o’clock
nothing left
but gasps &
the slap of the crumbly rubber ball
against thigh
made the skin
go red
bumpy
and sting
among
the frost